


Blood

by Muddles



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, Seran Cousland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muddles/pseuds/Muddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only takes a moment to lose yourself in the heat of battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood

"They’re all so eager to die, aren’t they?"

It was one of the first things Zevran had heard from his Warden.  For many, he suspected, it was one of the last things they ever heard.

Sometimes he worries it will be the last words he hears from his Warden. Not a tender, dying declaration of love, like in all the stories he never believed in, but a foolish taunt.

Seran’s time on the road, and his time fighting the Blight has changed him. Zevran can see it in the way that Alistair looks at him with concern, in the cautious whimpers of the Mabari, and the thousand-yard stares from Morrigan from across camp.  

Still, he and Seran have been bedfellows for some time and Zevran can not help but be concerned.  The adventuring party usually consists of himself, Leliana, and Wynne, with Seran leading the way.  And while Zevran does not mind or complain about the eye candy, he does question the wisdom of having warrior and two rogues in a group of four.

He knows better than to pry.  

What happened at Soldier’s Peak was none of his concern.  That was Grey Warden business, and Dryden business.

They were fighting a group of bandits on the Imperial Highway.  South of Highever, where the Blight had not yet reached.  There were no darkspawn for miles, for now.

And now, with the bandits dead at their feet, the wilderness around them smells of death, rot, and decay.

No.  He was used to that smell now.  That was the darkspawn taint.

"Something is wrong," Leliana says, snapping Zevran out of his thoughts.  

The fighting stopped several minutes ago, and the rest of them had sheathed their weapons.  By now, Seran should have gone through the dead men’s pockets with the efficiency of an Antivan whore, and they should have moved on.  He hadn’t moved an inch.  His hands were wrapped tight around both his dagger and sword, and his breathing was so heavy they could hear it from several feet away.

"Perhaps we should—" Wynne says, though the rest of the sentence was lost to Zevran’s ears.  In a few short steps, he is behind Seran, and the smell of the darkspawn taint is infinitely stronger and makes his eyes water.

"Enough of this," Zevran says, his normal, joking self, "You’ve had you’re fun my dear, and I’m sure there are more waiting just around the next bend for you."

Seran says nothing.  Does nothing, except shakes, and now his breath comes out in ragged gasps. 

Zevran does not even think when he puts a hand on Seran’s shoulder.

He doesn’t know better.

"Seran," he says, and this time, his tone is hushed.  "Come back to me,  _amore_.”

With a large gasp for breath, Seran’s dagger falls to the ground.  He breathes in, and out again, and turns his head to face Zevran.  The parts of his face that aren’t soaked in his own, tainted blood are pale.  ”I’m—it’s alright, Zevran,” he says, flashing him a little, blood-soaked smile.

"It is not," Zevran whispers loud enough for only Seran to hear as he takes a step backwards.  Seran sheathes his sword and picks up the dropped dagger before turning to him.

"It happens sometimes," Seran says, as noncommittally as if he were discussing a cowlick or sunburn.  A cone of light surrounds Seran briefly as Wynne works her healing magic.

Most of the blood does not disappear.

Zevran, for once, is struggling to find words.  ”Be careful,” he finally says.  ”There is too much riding on you not losing yourself, my Grey Warden.”

Seran walks over to him, a slow, unsteady gait of a man who was trapped either in memories, blood lust, or the darkspawn taint.  ”I will,” he says, running a hand through Zevran’s hair and bending over a little to kiss him on the forehead.

It is anything but reassuring.

**Author's Note:**

> My first thing on AO3! Yay! Originally posted as a response to a prompt on Tumblr. Thanks, you, reader, for reading!


End file.
